I Can't Stop
by Kylie-Chan
Summary: The cops got out before I could make it though, and they told me to stop. But like I said, I couldn't stop. I would never be able to stop anymore.


A/N: It's 3:30 in the morning and I need to write. I started crying again after thinking about Johnny and Dally dying, so I felt like doing a little vent thing. It's told from Dally's POV. This is being written on a binge of insomnia and too much emotional turmoil about characters in a book, so be warned.

WARNING: Swearing and violence.

Dislaimer: Do not own 'The Outsiders'. It belongs to S.E. Hinton.

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"Johnnycake? Johnny?"

"Hey."

God, the kid was dying. I knew it, but I didn't want to. I didn't want for it to be true. So I kept up acting like everything was okay, trying to convince myself that it wasn't true, that Johnnycake wasn't really dying.

"We won." It was hard for me to breathe after all the running I'd done, but I had to keep talking. "We beat the Socs. We stomped them- chased them outta our territory." He didn't even have the strength to smile. But I could hear it in his voice.

"Useless...fighting's no good..."

I knew that the kid had always looked up to me. I could see it all the time, and I'd never told him, but that meant a lot to me. It feels good to know that someone cares about you. I'd never told him that I loved him, that he was the only person in the world I ever cared about. I wasn't brave enough. I still couldn't come right out and say it. But I had to let him know somehow. I licked my lips, and I could feel the sweat pouring down my neck.

"They're still writing editorials about you in the paper. For being a hero and all." I was talking faster and faster by the second, and my voice came out in a weird sort of calm. "Yeah, they're calling you a hero now and heroizin' all the greasers. We're all proud of you buddy." I squeezed his upper arm, and when I saw the look in his eyes, I knew he knew what I was trying to say. Johnny may not have been smart in school or nothin', but he knew the score.

"Ponyboy."

Glory, but his voice was so quiet now. It was scarin' me. And I'm never scared of nothin'. I watched Ponyboy lean in to hear Johnny. He was so roughed up from the rumble that I almost felt bad for bringin' him here. He'd seemed sick even when he'd come to visit me earlier. But Johnny had wanted to see him, and I'd be damned if he didn't.

I watched as Johnny whispered something to Ponyboy. And then his eyes closed and he sank into the pillows, or somethin' like that, and he was gone. The only person who ever cared about me, who I ever cared about, was gone. I felt a lump in my throat and I swallowed as I tried for a few seconds to deny it. I reached over and pushed Johnny's hair back. "Never could keep that hair back...that's what you get for tryin' to help people, you little punk, that's what you get..." I couldn't take it. I whirled around and slammed my fist against the wall, feeling the tears and sweat rolling down my cheeks.

"Damnit, Johnny..." I was choking back sobs now, and it hurt worse than anything I'd ever felt in my life. "Oh, damnit, Johnny, don't die, please don't die..." I never said please. But at that second, I was willing to say anything if it would bring him back. I looked at Ponyboy in a sort of dazed way; he was staring at me in mixed horror and surprise. I know he hadn't expected me to react like this. No one would ever expect it of me. Tough, hard as nails Dallas Winston breaking down because some 16 year old kid was dead. 'Cept it wasn't that simple. Johnny wasn't just a kid, he was my best friend; my only real friend. And now he was gone. I ran.

I ran into a doctor on the way out. I guess was taking some back way or something, cause he said, "You're not supposed to be here."

I pulled my gun out and pointed it at him, and it made him freeze up pretty good. "I think I can go wherever I want." My voice was choked with tears. I pulled the trigger, but the gun was empty. I knew that. The doctor walked off saying that I was crazy, while I gave a crazy grin and kept pulling the trigger after him. "Why do even bother helping people!" I shouted after him. "It doesn't do any good." I ran off to the parking lot and hopped into Buck's T-bird. I didn't know where I was going, but I did know one thing; I wanted to die. Every last shred of good that had been in the world had died with Johnny. The world was completely hideous now, and I couldn't stand it. I was completely alone now. So I made my decision right there; If I couldn't live in a world with Johnny in it, then I just wouldn't live.

I sped out of the parking lot and down the street, and I know I probably broke the speed limit by 50 miles, but I didn't care anymore. I finally stopped at a convenient store near the lot and I got out. I walked in, too calm, too casual, and went over to the magazine section. I knew the manager was staring at me, wondering what a beaten up, tough hood was doing in his store. I picked up a magazine and starting flipping through it while lightly punching the stand, although I wasn't really looking at the pages. Finally, the clerk asked, "Are you going to buy anything?"

I looked at him, then raised the magazine with both hands, ripping it in half. The clerk looked alarmed and said, "You have to buy that now."

I walked up to him and pulled out my heater, raising it up to his eye, then listening to his pleas not to shoot. "Give me the money." I said it so quietly and tearfully that I had to say it again for him to understand me. "GIVE ME THE DAMN MONEY!" He opened the register and mumbled about how he was so sick of punks like me. That's what I was; I punk, a JD, a hood. I was going to die that way. He gave me the money and I ran out of there. But I guess he had a gun or something, 'cause I heard gunshots, and felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. I kept running anyways, until I reached a telephone in an alley. I put in a few quarters and dialed the Curtis's number.

"Hello?"

It was Steve. "Steve, put Darry on the phone."

"What? Dally? Where are ya? Are ya alright?"

"Yeah, look, just put Darry on."

"O-Okay." I heard him call for Darry, who was on in about a second.

"Yeah?"

"Darry, I robbed a store, the fuzz are after me. I need a hideout man. Johnny's dead."

"Yeah, I know."

"Johnny...look, meet me at the lot, okay?"

"Alright, we'll be there."

I hung up and started running again, this time towards the lot. I was starting to feel dizzy, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop now. When I reached the lot, I heard the cop cars, so I ran across, almost making it to the street. The cops got out before I could make it though, and they told me to stop. But like I said, I couldn't stop. I would never be able to stop anymore.

"You won't take me alive!" I shouted, pulling the heater out of my waistband. I aimed it at the cops, and I could hear the gang screaming at the cops not to shoot, that I was just a kid. I smiled wryly, and I could feel tears streaming down my cheeks again. No one considered me a kid anymore. Not these cops, not that clerk, hell, not even me. But I was 17; I was still a kid. I couldn't deny it. But my only friend had just died, and he was a kid too. A kid way more deserving of life than I would ever be. There were about 6 cops firing their guns, and I felt the builts jerk me nearly half around. God it hurt! But I smiled. I grinned. I was dying. That was the one thing I'd wanted. I always got what I wanted, and this was no exception. I crawled a little towards the gang, who had stopped in horror. Steve was sobbing, and Sodapop, being the kind of guy he was, was trying to comfort him, even though he was crying too. Two-Bit wasn't laughing like usual this time, and Ponyboy was crying too. Even Darry was crying, and I ain't ever seen him cry before. For a second, I wanted to say sorry. I wanted to say sorry for making them cry like this. But I couldn't get my mouth to open. Then my vision went black, and the noise was gone.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in an all white place, and there was Johnny, healthy and happy, standing over me. He reached out a hand to help me up, smiling. "Hey Dally."

I grinned, and I was crying again. But this time, it was because I was happy. I let him help me up. "Hey kid." I looked around slowly, putting an arm around Johnny's shoulders. "So what's it like here?"

He looked at me, and his big, black eyes looked so peaceful and happy that I couldn't help but smile a little wider. "Oh, it's really nice here, Dally. It's beautiful all the time, and here, their ain't no greasers or Socs. There's just people. We don't have to try and be tough anymore. Everyone's happy here." Well, Johnny was happy, so I was happy. I leaned my head against his, and he leaned against my shoulder. I was overcome with this weird, easy feeling, and I knew that I didn't have to worry about anything anymore. I could be a kid now, and everything would be okay.

"Y'know what Johnny, I think I'm really gonna like it here."

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Okay, I feel better now. I really like how this came out...I guess I get in touch with my inner greaser at 3:30 A.M.


End file.
